38: Lowlife Playboy?

38: Lowlife Playboy?
Chase

The suite is quiet. Too quiet. That's the first thing I notice after checking out of the villa and returning to the resort with Corey.

For a tropical paradise, for a celebration, for a life changing encounter, every moment should feel alive somehow but, all I can hear is the muted hum of the air conditioning, the rush of the ocean outside of the windows, the brush of the curtains as they sway in the morning breeze. Everything else, is still... silent. And instead of finding comfort in this moment alone, after an incredible night with Lena and her friends, I can't sit still. The tranquilty is only making my thoughts louder. I have been pacing, fidgeting for nearly 20 minutes when the phone buzzes, again. I pause beside the window as morning light spills through, washing the room in a pale golden glow that does nothing to soften the tension beneath my skin. My eyes shift, lock on the screen, and my jaw clenches as her name lights up for the fourth time... Amanda. Not Lena. For the fourth god damn time in a span of an hour! Of all the fucking nights. Of all the fucking days!

I turn the device face down on the nightstand, hoping that will be enough for me to think, to block out her relentless calling. My first train of thought? Lena. I need to talk to her, actually talk to her about what happened, but the problem is, I have no idea what to say. There is no easy or explanation for why an ex girlfriend called repeatedly while I was in bed with the her. Should I have not answered? No, that would have been more suspicious. I stare out the window, focused on the shimmering, crystal sea that strecthes endlessly beneath a cloudless sky, bright and gorgeous, however looking at it for too long is making my eyes absolutely fucking ache. My stomach tightens uncomfortably, and a sense of unease fills every corner and limb of my body. From Lena's perspective, all she had seen and heard was another woman's name lighting up on my phone over and over again. Her shrill voice on the other end, panicked and melting down over avoiding her calls. Over the end of our relationship. I drag both my hands over my face, letting my head fall back in irritation.

"UGH!" I groan as my phone buzzes on the nightstand again. AGAIN! I hate this. And not because I am worried about my Amanda, because I'm not. I could fucking care less about her bullshit right now. I'm worried about what Lena thinks of me. If she doubts me. If she thinks I am just some lowlife playboy tricking her on vacation for a little fun. And worse, I just pulled her back into my arms and acted like the entire conversation didn't happen. Kissed her forehead and assured her everything is fine... but is it? Does it seem like I'm hiding something because I didn't hash out the messy details of my break up and Amanda's unwillingess to let go?

"Fucking christ", I mutter as I sit on the edge of the bed and stare at the ceiling, wondering how one woman can be so damn persistent. There was a time when her name appearing on my screen could turn my entire day upside down for the better, but that version of me, is gone. Especially now. Seeing her name only makes me want to snap, and what bothers me the most is that she wants answers to questions I've already provided, explained, made as clear as damn possible. Whether there is some tiny corner of my life she can crawl her way back into. Whether we can work out all the never ending issues and petty arguments that happened on a daily basis beween us... But there isn't. She hasn't gotten the message, or rather, she refuses to see the truth. The phone vibrates on the nightstand, shaking the glass of ice water I have resting beside it. She is like the fucking grim reaper coming to collect my soul.

I jolt upright and pick up the phone, staring at her name. Amanda. Not Lena. Trapped in some weird, twisted nightmare where the woman I am falling for has been silent since she left, and the woman I want nothing to do with won't take a hint. My thumb hovers over the decline button. It would be easy to just silence it. Ignore it. One tap and poof, gone... until she calls again. Until she texts me in the middle of my final moments with Lena later tonight. "What?!" I bark into the phone as I answer, my jaw clenched, my brows furrowed with distress as I listen to her shaky breathing. "Are you really going to talk to me like that Chase?" Amanda whispers, her tone both delicate and annoyed in response to my attitude. I close my eyes, sighing heavily. Of course that's what she focuses on. Not the relentless stream of missed calls. Not the endless unanswered texts. Not that fact that she has been persistently redialing, retexting despite my lack of response since 3:00AM. Not the fact that I laid this out on the first day of the trip. No, before that. Months ago when I finally put us to an end. Her feelings come first... it's always her wants and needs, and not how her actions are driving me insane. That we simply aren't compatible because of it.

"Why are you calling, Amanda? I've already told you..." I start, but she lets out a humorless laugh, her sniffles filling the space in between. "I'm calling because you won't answer me! Because you cut the conversation short! Because you're trying to act like I don't exist, while you get lost in some bitch on vacation!" Amanda's shrill voice snarls on the other end, ruthless, yet still weak like she doesn't even believe the words herself. She knows I'm not that kind of guy. "We broke up, Amanda." I almost whine into the phone, reaching my absolute limit. "You called me over twenty times, and you're expecting a welcome party? I've told you already, there is nothing left to talk about. I'm done." There is a moment of silence, before her voice cracks with heartbreak. Real or to manipulate my emotions? I can't tell anymore. "You don't get to decide that by yourself." She coos flatly, treading lightly despite the light command resting underneath her harmless tone.

"I do when it's my relationship." I growl lowly into the phone in response, pinching the bridge of my nose as she cries; mumbling incoherently, unable to make out exactly what she's saying admist her tears. Something about another chance, therapy, making it work. God, all that sounds like a fucking chore. My head drops, my eyes narrowed at the mirror across from me, taking in the stress lines on my forehead and the grimace rippling across my features. I hate being put into situations where I have to be the bad guy, because I tried. I really did, to end things amicably between us. "Then... then how can you just stop loving me?" She asks after a moment of uncomfortable silence, and that question, lands harder than I expect.